Seven Devils
by Lana Archer
Summary: Bonnie Bennett wasn't good anymore. She'd pushed her magic too far, delved too deep into Expression and now... There was none of her left. But what if it didn't kill her, it only took the good out of her? And what if someone had known that and used it to their advantage? (Dark Bonnie. Slight Bamon.)


_Holy water_

_Cannot help you now_

_A thousand armies_

_Couldn't keep me out_

_I don't want your money_

_I don't want your crown_

_See I've come to burn your kingdom down_

_**Seven Devils – Florence and the Machine**_

**If I cannot move Heaven, I will raise Hell**

Bonnie remembered being a good person. She remembered the bone-deep moral obligation she'd been bred with, to do what was right and to stand by the ways of the truth. But someone had forgotten to tell her that the truth didn't always err on the side of caution. The truth was infinite; impassive and solid – unlike anything else it came into contact with. Truth didn't bend to your whim; truths never relented when your heart broke. The truth forges on; whether you have the strength to follow or not. And the truth had dragged Bonnie down to hell with it.

If ever there was a time to wish for a fairy tale she supposed it was now. Her fingertips were stained with blood, but as her eyes travelled to her palms, wrists and forearms, she saw that they were too. Rivulets of blood that circled her small limbs while some of the crimson liquid had hardened and dried under her nails. Her eyes continued to travel upward, to her upper arms and then her gaze flickered to her chest down her torso, and then all the way to the tops of her feet. _Blood_. Whose blood it was was anyone's guess.

"Bonnie?" The sound of her name made her heart flutter with the flailing hope that perhaps all of the bodies that were lying crumpled at her feet weren't dead. But as he stepped into view she realised that he was the only person besides her that was alive…and he wasn't even really alive to begin with. "What did you do?" He went on, stepping over limbs and puddles as his eyes darted this way and that. "Why are they all dead?"

"They're dead because they tried to kill me." Her voice was hard and slick, like honey trickling over a skull. "They shouldn't have attacked me." Damon's eyes widened as his mouth turned down at the corners – he was impressed. _Grossed out_, but impressed.

"I agree they shouldn't have tried to kill you," Damon said coming to stand next to her, fiddling with a few strands of her hair that were matted with blood, "But who's going to clean all this?" Magic rippled under her skin and Bonnie rolled her neck and clicked the bones in her shoulders before looking around them.

"Fac ut in aqua calefacta." Bonnie said her green eyes moving over the bodies as she chanted, "Fac ut in aqua calefacta." Damon watched as the bodies began to move together, forming a haphazard pile in front of them. Once all the parts were assembled they began to lift and swirl, slowly at first but as more bodies were raised the spinning quickened. With one final pulse of magic leaving her body Damon saw the swirling mess of bodies before them vanish. Leaving nothing in their wake. Not a chair out of place. Looking down at Bonnie he saw that she was still in pyjamas; short-shorts and a tank top – drenched in werewolf blood.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Bonnie shrugged out of his hold, her eyes still on where the carnage had laid not seconds ago. People she'd killed, werewolves were as close to humans as witches were in the supernatural world. Their hearts still throbbed, their breaths still heaved as they moved, as they fought for their lives.

"I always wondered what it would feel like," Bonnie said noting that her voice had taken on a dreamlike quality as she thought back to her first experiments with Expression, "When the switch would flip. I remember Silas telling me that using Expression had its limits too and I had shrugged him off, even after he told me about the killer's curse in witches." Damon nodded, all too familiar with the story.

"The one where when you kill one too many supernaturals that your witch equivalent of a switch is automatically turned off with no real way to get it back on." Bonnie nodded as she scratched her nails into her palms, seeking out traction for her thoughts.

"It's strange," she went on, "Not caring about death when I myself am so fallible and flimsy." She looked up at him then, a streak of blood cutting across her face diagonally and bringing out the fierce vibrant green hues of her eyes.

"I'll always protect you, you know that." Damon said, with the same assuredness he'd always employed with her. Bonnie smiled.

"Only because you feel obligated." She reminded him but he shook his head.

"I fulfilled those obligations long ago." Damon reminded her.

"Why do they hunt me when they know they'll never win?" Bonnie asked, her eyes moving back to the space at her feet, where her feet were stained red to the ankle. "They all know what happened to Silas but they still seek me out."

"They're doing what most supernaturals are want to do," Damon said, turning her to face him, "_Seek power_, get their hands on a weapon." Bonnie got a gleam in her eye then and he knew exactly what she was thinking of. "Yes, Stefan and I were no better with how we treated you, in fact, there are many supernaturals out there that would have treated you a damn sight better than we ever did before it all happened…I guess I'm just glad I knew you before then."

"Why?" Bonnie asked, "I could just so easily kill you now."

"Yes but it's every time you don't that keeps me coming back to you."

"Your pull to damnation is fascinating." Bonnie said with a wry smile, the dried blood on her chin cracking a little. Damon smiled in return. He hadn't been expecting this when he walked into the den that morning but he wasn't surprised either. For weeks now mobs of supernaturals had been falling over themselves to get to Bonnie. Like they _wanted_ to die. A quick thought struck through him like lightning and his mouth fell open.

"Bonnie I think someone _wanted_ your switch off." Damon said, his pale blue eyes glazed over in frantic thought as he ran through the list of enemies they'd piled up over the years.

"Why would someone _want_ me like this?" Bonnie wondered, not a single shred of worry evident in her voice.

"Who _wouldn't_ want you like this?" Came a voice Bonnie barely recognised it had been so long since she'd heard it. She watched, detachedly fascinated as Klaus stepped into view. "Hello Miss Bennett."

**I don't know what to tell you guys**

**This chapter happened so fast**

**Keep it groovy**


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